


Icarus Fallen

by arachnistar



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnistar/pseuds/arachnistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Master met Rose first? </p><p>"She is higher than she's ever been before, but she has never felt further from the stars."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icarus Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: There is a non-explicit non-con scene in this story.

It's like any other day at Henrik's. She arrives, she folds clothes, she listens to customers gripe and whine and fuss, she points them where they want to go, she takes a lunch break. Rinse and repeat, over and over and over again until she gets to go home. The day is finally winding down and she finishes locking up in the blink of an eye. It's on the walk home when Rose spots him.

He's lying on the ground by a blue police box. He is devilishly handsome despite his ragged appearance. He coughs and it's surely her imagination but she sees golden energy leave him. She stops a foot away from him.

"You alright, mate?"

He looks up, eyes narrowed. They are the eyes of a predator and she almost steps back. Concern for his condition wins out and keeps her there. What could he do anyway?

"I can call the hospital."

His eyes soften somewhat. Danger lurks there ( _like he's plotting_ ), but there's something sweeter and charismatic there too. He stands and brushes dust off his suit.

"No need." His voice is smooth. Like caramel and honey, charm literally seeps from every pore. Immediately she doesn't trust him. Men like him are always liars in the end. However, she can't just ditch him when he was on the ground a second ago.

"You sure?" One last attempt and then she'll go home, she tells herself.

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Considers her for a moment. Those eyes pin her, the eyes of a collector perusing his latest find, seem to see everything around her.

"I do need something."

There are two parts warring within her at this moment. There's the logical one, the smart one, the deep-set instinctual one that screams _run!_ It's the one that finds him repulsive, that wants nothing to do with him. It's right. And then there's the curious one, the one bobbing along to an invisible beat, the one that is drawn to him like moths to lights. But what happens when that light is a flame? What happens if she burns? That part isn't interested in the answer, only in his magnetism. She can't tear herself away.

"What?"

"You want to see the world." Rose blinks. How could he possibly know? "You deserve to see the world. I can show it to you."

She flushes. These are lines, the same tired lines the more charming men try, but from him, they sound genuine. It's his voice. It's the voice of a god, a voice that strikes belief and worship into hearts.

Rose refuses to give in entirely even if every cell is screaming to trust him. Lifting her chin, challenging, she says, "Prove it."

A smile curls on to his face. "Step inside." He nods at the blue police box.

"You first."

He peers at her and she's struck with the thought that he might hit her now. That he wants to, wants to smash her head in and leave her bleeding on the pavement.

He doesn't and the feeling vanishes. Eyes blazing, he enters the police box. She steps to the threshold and looks inside. Her world shifts. Nothing will ever be the same.

X-X-X

"'S bigger on the inside." She concludes after circling the box and returning. She shakes her head. "How's it work?"

"You wouldn't understand." He breezes by her, flips levers on the console.

Rose scowls at his back and then looks around at the foreign technology. She recalls news headings – the spaceship hitting Big Ben, the ship on Christmas Day, half a dozen other unexplained phenomena. Only one explanation that makes sense. "You an alien?"

"Time Lord."

She scoffs. "You think you're so high an' mighty."

"I am." She only rolls her eyes. He turns around and draws himself up like royalty. "I'm the Master."

"Master?" Her eyebrows rise. "Oh God, you are too much."

She laughs then, ignoring the glare he shoots at her. There's a tension in his body, a bowstring pulled taut, and she wonders if he's a violent alien. If he's kidnapped her for experiments. The thought dries up her laughter.

"Why pick me up then, oh high an' mighty Master?" She says it with a roll of her eyes, with a bravado she doesn't quite feel.

"I told you; I want to show you the universe."

With that, he flips one final switch on his machine and the whole thing trembles.

X-X-X

Even with the impossibility of the TARDIS, with the inside being bigger on the outside, she didn't believe that the machine could actually travel through space and time. It seemed impossible, like chucking out every rule of physics and linearity and straight-forward human logic, not that she knows much about any of that.

Now she believes.

She stares out at the desolate landscape, at the black sky devoid of stars, at the wasteland laid out in front of her.

"Where are we?" A second and then she adds, "When are we?"

He smiles, a crooked thing that smile. "Clever girl. It's the year 100 trillion, on the planet Malcassairo. And it's the end of the universe."

"Why?" Of all the places a ship like his could go, why choose the end of all things? It seems lonely to her, and sad. So sad. Perhaps that's what he is, under his charming, cutting exterior, a sad alien all alone in his blue police box, looking for something more.

"My ship's broken." Her eyes slide to him, at his tense, coiled body, nearly shaking with rage and hatred. Or maybe she's wrong and he's not sad – he's angry, so angry as if there's a storm brewing inside of him. Or both. "There was a man, a Time Lord like me, named the Doctor and he broke it. Made it so it could travel to your time and here, but nowhere else."

"Why?"

The Master ignores her. "But I'll fix it. I'll make it better than before and then –" He smiles again.

"We can go anywhere? Anywhen?" She'll have to get used to that, the way time isn't so linear, at least not to him and maybe not for her anymore. She could be something more than just an average shop girl. She could see the universe, dance among the stars, the little voice in her head whispers.

He nods. "We can do anything." His arm snakes around her waist, tugging her close. She gasps as he grins. "We'll be king and queen."

She smiles back and then looks out at the wasteland. It's completely still and it unnerves her in its utter loneliness. Nothing should be so empty of life. "An' what about the people? Where are they? There are still people, yeah?"

"Flying away. I set them on a rocket to Utopia before I left here."

Utopia. It's such a nice word. It brings to mind ivory towers and expansive gardens, a paradise with no pain or prejudice. No suffering. It's lovely, but it's a dream too. Rose has watched enough dystopian movies to know that.

"Does it exist?"

He considers her, seemingly surprised by her question, and then chuckles. "No, but it's hope for them. And I've got a different plan. We're going to save them."

There's more to it than that – she's sure of it, it lurks in the gleam of his eye – but she can't figure it out.

X-X-X

On the return trip, he tells her bits of his plan. How he'll pull these survivors into her time, how he'll work on his ship, how he'll need to go undercover as a human to accomplish his plot. Rose knows he hasn't told her everything, but she's willing to help.

Once he's finished, she crosses her arms. "You'll need a new name. An' documentation. Can't move around if you don't properly exist."

"I know."

She imagines gears turning in his head, details clicking into place, a grand labyrinth of clockwork machinery. She wonders where she fits into everything, if the reason he needs her is for her familiarity with human customs or something else.

He snaps his fingers. "Harold Saxon, that'll be it." He fiddles with the controls of the ship and then glances at her. "And your name?"

"Rose Tyler."

"Rose Tyler." He repeats after her. The way he says her name makes her heart beat faster, makes the whole world pulse and shiver.

X-X-X

She falls.

It's hard not to, with his wild stories and his honey-sweet voice and his promises of _adventure_ and his body moving in tandem with hers. It's impossible not to with the way he lifts her into a new world, a better one, one where she is so much more than a shop girl with a dead-end job. He makes her feel worthy and loved and important.

She falls, but she doesn't see what she's falling into. She doesn't see that it's not love and adventure; it's the deep, dark pit where the damned are banished for eternity. She doesn't see until it's too late, until she's at the bottom of that abyss and somehow still falling.

X-X-X

Just after their lovemaking ( _fucking_ really but she doesn't call it that), Rose rests her head on his chest. Listens to the double-beat of his hearts, feels the tapping rhythm of his fingers on her back. Always the same rhythm, four beats over and over, tapping away on her skin. It's become her lullaby, this constant presence of _him_. She almost swears that she can hear the rhythm wherever she goes, that it follows her like his love, but that's a foolish fancy.

"I love you." It's the first time she says those words to him.

His fingers pause on her skin, dig in just enough to rip a gasp from her. Seconds stretch into minutes and she thinks he's letting it go unremarked. Maybe Time Lords don't love, not the way humans do. Maybe they just don't know the words.

Then his voice: "I love you too."

Something is off, but she doesn't examine it. She lets her heart soar, lets his words fill her up like a hot-air balloon.

X-X-X

It doesn't take her long to move in with him. He asks and she agrees with a smile. It's only her mum that's the problem. Her mum who doesn't trust him, who thinks he's just another shark looking for young meat.

"An' what'll happen when he drops you like Jimmy?"

Rose looks away. They don't talk about Jimmy much, not at all except when her mum is angry and wants to hurt. And it does, but not as much as it used to because there's the Master and his magnificent ship and his grand plans. With him, she can forget about Jimmy and love that isn't true.

"He's different."

Jackie huffs. "That's what they all say. And then they drop you. Stay here, Rose. Stay with me. Forget about him. He's too old," (unspoken, it's there nonetheless – _too successful, too educated, too high-class_ ), "to be interested in anythin' else but what's in your knickers anyway."

"No." Everything is wrapped up in that word. Her defiance, her love, her belief in him and what they have.

Her mum's eyes harden. "Well, then go! Go and when he drops you, don't you dare try crawlin' back to me!" Rose storms from the flat as her mum yells at her retreating back. "I won't let you back! I mean it!"

It breaks her heart to leave her mum, but where she's going is better. Rose will prove to her mum that this is real, that they are better, that Jackie is wrong and bitter because she's alone. And then Rose will let her mum back in after a fair amount of begging and apologizing.

It'll all work out in the end. She'll see. Everyone will.

X-X-X

In the early morning, as they lounge in bed together, he whispers his plans in her ear.

People will die. Maybe quite a few. But it's necessary. It's the only way he can bring over the people of the future, the only way they can sit on top of the world, the only way they will see the stars. Together.

She likes that word. Together, it rolls pleasantly off the tongue. She imagines them in his ship, spiraling through the galaxies, close enough to watch stars burn and planets flourish. He paints vivid images of what's out there – sapphire waterfalls, fluorescent grass, evanescent crystals – and she wants to see it all.

She doesn't like the rest. She doesn't like people dying, but he assures her more will live. It's the weight of the world, humanity's future, on his shoulders and it'll be better this way. In the great balance of things, more will live.

She's not sure about that, not sure life works that way with scales and weights. When she questions him, a dark cloud crosses his face, sharp words fly from his mouth, and she never asks again. It's better to stay quiet.

Because even though she's his queen, she's still that girl off the Estate inside and she loves him more than anything and losing him will kill her.

X-X-X

"Marry me."

It's been a month since she met him and now he's kneeling in front of her, holding out a ring. The universe turns in that ring, the promises tangible like they've never been before. A circle, symbol of eternity, of things that never end. Their eternity. She feels like she's flying, like she can reach out and brush the stars with her fingertips.

Rose agrees and he slips it on her finger. It's her crown. She feels impossibly powerful and mighty, so far away from who she once was and she's happy for it. She will never be that girl again.

X-X-X

Rose isn't stupid. She knows that the Master plans to kill the cabinet, but she can't find it within her to care. His vows still ring in her ears, the plans he whispered in her ear in the dark, and she can't summon the compassion she once held. That part of her is curled up deep inside, locked away, probably withered, maybe dead. She tells herself it's long gone and there is only the Master and their ( _her_ ) love now. Their future together.

She listens to the woman go on about how Harold Saxon doesn't exist, how his records are false, how there is something sinister going on here. She knows it all, but she plays the role of the innocent.

She doesn't want the woman to die, but she knows it's the only way.

"Master!"

No use to hide the truth from a dead woman walking. She calls and he comes with his Toclafane. They leave the room to the sound of her screams.

She turns into the Master's arms and kisses him, forgets about the horror of murder and focuses on his hunger. The death-and-ashes taste in her mouth is replaced with his exotic spice flavor and she focuses on that.

Everything else that she is, _was_ , falls to the back. A closet of skeletons.

X-X-X

They win.

It's not as sweet as she imagined it would be. There are no stars here, only fire and blood and death. The Master promises that once the missiles are ready, she'll see them. See stars and galaxies, everything, but the price feels too high now.

Rose watches the world burn in pieces, watches the human race thrown under the yoke, watches the future people who aren't even people anymore carry out atrocities against their ancestors. It's sick and wrong.

She's sick and wrong.

Usually she can ignore it, up here in their ivory tower, pretend that things are good and that people aren't dying daily, but sometimes it's too big to escape notice. The first invasion, the northern forests of Canada, Japan, they light up like giant bonfires. She can't hear the screams from the Valiant, but she imagines them, dreams of them. They run through her mind, claw at her skin, echo in her ears like vengeful spirits.

The Master is generally in a good mood. He whizzes about, dances, laughs, fucks her hard. Sometimes she sees darkness flash across his face. Sometimes he gets angry. Sometimes he yells at her, horrible obscene things. Sometimes he hits her and she takes it because there's nothing else she can do.

It's lonely up here too. No one but the Master speaks to her. For good reason, she is their enemy, she is complicit in the world burning. They call her names. Slut and bitch and traitor among other hateful words meant to sting. She wants to explain things to them, but knows there's nothing she can say. So she stays away.

When Rose isn't with the Master, she spends a lot of time staring out the window at the planet below or the sky above. She makes up better worlds and then lets those dreams dissipate, evanescent and forever out of reach.

She misses home. She misses her mum and Mickey and Shireen and humanity. She misses chips drowned in vinegar and creaky playground swings and even that stupid department store job. She misses people who aren't broken, who aren't pressed down by far too much death. She even sorta misses Rose Tyler, the girl who had nothing but who had never harmed anyone, the girl with no future but no bruises and bloodstains.

She stares down at the earth below and wishes that she could be down there again. That the planet wasn't a ravaged husk of what it once was. That everything could be undone and that this was all a dream. That she would wake up back at Powell Estate to a normal life, having never known a madman called the Master.

She is higher than she's ever been before, but she has never felt further from the stars.

X-X-X

The Doctor is not what she expects either. The Master painted a nightmare vision of him, the great destroyer, the oncoming storm, the man who would trap them within two times by messing around with the time ship. He looks nothing like any of those things.

Even angry, his eyes hold warmth. Warmth that the Master's eyes lack. Warmth that, she thinks as she gazes in the mirror at her sallow reflection, her own eyes have lost.

It's so clear he cares and for a brief moment, a traitorous thought rises in her. She wishes that this other Time Lord had come to her instead. The thought is mostly squashed out in that moment, but sometimes, in the dark of night, when the Master is at his worst, she takes it out and rolls it around in her mind, tastes it and treasures it and dares to dream. She dreams of adventure and a life loved and goodness most of all.

But she knows she is too corrupted now. She is dirty and stained, not like the brilliant and good companion he keeps with him. She feels jealous of this Martha and wishes that they could switch places. Then she changes her mind – she wouldn't wish her fate on anyone.

Every time she passes by him, old and broken, there's an unexpected warmth in her chest. A lovely glow that confuses her. It's different than it is with the Master. With him, she feels like something's crawling inside her, something dark and serpentine worming its way through her system, trapping her. With the Doctor though, it's – well, it's stupid really. He's the loser, they won. She and the Master won. The shop girl lifted up above everyone. Like the Master promised.

It doesn't feel like that.

It feels like dark cages and blood, too much blood. She wonders where the girl she was went, how she could let herself fall so far. She can't remember anymore.

She can see that same question in the Doctor's eyes. Oh, he didn't know her before, but she can see the blame there. It's not hatred like the others. It's something else – an infinite sadness and disappointment. She fears his gaze because he sees her.

And yet, sometimes, when the Doctor looks at her, there's this light. This hope that maybe something can change. She doesn't know why it comes, but it does. As if she can be better than she actually is and she wants to reach that. She wants to prove that she can be that, for him and for herself, but she knows she'll fall short.

Nonetheless she steals extra food from her dinner that night, sliding it onto the napkin on her lap. The Master doesn't notice, he's too busy crowing on about his vision. Then, when he's asleep, she slips away and heads to where the Doctor stays.

He stares at her with tired eyes and she kneels next to him. She hands him the food, but he doesn't move.

"'M sorry. 'S all I can do."

The offering seems so paltry now, so foolish and meager. What was she hoping to accomplish? She cannot rinse her hands of blood with some food for the prisoner. But she cannot turn him young again either. She stands to leave and then he grabs her hand. His grip is surprisingly strong and she imagines his hands around her neck. He could do it. Maybe he should.

"You always have a choice."

It's not what she expects, not that she knows what she expected from him anyway. She shakes her head and pulls away. He lets her go. When she's several feet away, she turns back and looks into tired eyes.

"You're wrong."

X-X-X

The Master is especially angry the next night. Martha has slipped from his fingers once more. He comes into their bedroom, a roiling thundercloud.

He spots her and grabs her arms tightly. There will be bruises later.

"Stop." The word slips out before she can clamp her mouth shut.

"Stop?" He laughs. "I am the Master, your husband. Or have you forgotten?"

He throws her back on the bed, she bounces once and stares up at him. He gets up and covers her. Their coupling is rougher than usual and when he's done, she curls up carefully, whole body aching and burning. Burning with hatred for him, for her, for this twisted love that continues to dwell in her heart.

_You always have a choice._

Rose considers sneaking off and returning with a sharp knife. Wonders what it would feel like slicing through the Master's neck, how his hot blood would pour, how his eyes would widen in shock at his very own Judas. He would never expect it; he thinks she lacks a spine.

He's right. Of course he's right. She's too terrified of getting caught, of the myriad of ways it could all fall apart and more pain land on her. So she just curls tighter and bottles up her tears. She can't do it.

The Doctor is wrong. Maybe some people have a choice, but she doesn't.

X-X-X

She is just a stupid little girl who listened and believed the honeyed charming words of the wolf, fell right into his trap. A victim in the grand scheme of things. Now everything is coming undone and she is still the victim and he will live because the good Doctor forgives him. She almost hates him for that.

Her eyes drop and she sees the discarded gun. Slowly, as if she is moving through water, she reaches out and wraps a hand around the weapon. It feels solid, it feels like absolution and guilt and power.

_You always have a choice._

She doesn't have to be Little Red. She _isn't_ Little Red. She is the wolf and he is her prey. Her eyes gleam as she raises the gun.

Rose stares at the man who made her, the one who lifted her from a mediocre life, the one who turned her world into a house of horrors. She had thought him a savior, a burning sun, someone to take her all the way to the stars, but he had grounded her. Clipped her and hurt her and thrust her deep below where the light could never reach.

_You always have a choice._

Rose doesn't hesitate as she presses down on the trigger, doesn't blink as the bullet hits him, as scarlet blooms on his shirt, as his eyes widen.

Rose is numb, doesn't feel a thing as everyone rushes around her in a flurry. The gun drops, heavy, from her hands and she watches the man die. She feels nothing as he sneers and the other Time Lord begs him to regenerate. No elation, no sadness, no fury, just a grand stretch of emptiness.

Then when his final breath leaves his body, giddiness fills her and she can't help it – she laughs. It bursts out of her until her whole body is shaking, trembling with it.

She feels broken and shattered and alone, but most of all, she feels free.

X-X-X

"You killed him."

It's the first time she's spoken to the Doctor, really spoken to him on her own except the brief exchanges when she passed him food. He should scare her, but he doesn't. She's beyond that anymore, too tired to really care if he's furious at her.

They stand watching the Master's body burned. The Doctor wanted to do this alone, but she wanted to be here and so she was. She needs to see this nightmare consumed, needs to make sure that every bit of him is incinerated. To be honest, she has no idea what she'll do after, but the thought of his body burning keeps her going for now.

"I don't regret it."

"You shouldn't have."

Her eyes flash. "An' why not? Because of some stupid alien bond, the last two Time Lords in existence so suddenly it's okay to spare the life of someone like him? Because he's some bloody Time Lord? Well, I don't care. He hurt me in ways you can't imagine." Her eyes close and her voice goes quiet. "I let him hurt me. I let myself believe, that he could take me somewhere better, that I was better than I was."

Rose opens them again to look at his face. He's impossible to read – a mixture of anger, sadness, and – what is that? – Pity? Sympathy? Concern? She wants to laugh in his face.

"You could've been better. You could've spared him."

Now she does laugh.

"You really are alien." She sobers quickly and adds. "His weren't the crimes you can forgive."

"I know what he did was awful, but –"

She shakes her head. "No, you don't. It wasn't the fists or the lies that hurt. It was the love. I can never go back."

He had broken something inside of her and no amount of superglue or time could fix it exactly. There would always be pieces missing, jagged edges that couldn't be smoothed, vulnerable fault lines in the curve of her heart. She would never be the same person she had been before.

The Doctor looks at her and it's like he's really looking at her, into her, this time. As if he's seeing past the Mrs. Saxon the media saw, the wife of successful Harold Saxon, past the victim the Master made of her, past the killer she made of herself, right to her core. To Rose Tyler, whoever she was now. She stares back, afraid of what he'll find, of what his reaction will be but curious all the same.

"You can be better, Rose Tyler."

The way he says her name makes her want to believe in it. It's not a prayer or a hymn, but it's something. Not absolution, her sins will never be washed clean. Hope, maybe. Hope that she can change, that she can move on from this point in her life. She has no delusions of seeing the stars anymore, no visions of grandeur, but she can find who she is. She can dig through the layers and figure out Rose Tyler, not a monster, not a victim, but a woman, a person.

"Thank you, Doctor."

He turns to leave.

A million things she could say, wants to say, rush through her mind. She doesn't say any of them, just gives him a soft smile. "Will I ever see you again?"

He looks back with a shuttered face. "Maybe."

It's not a promise, but she's lost her stomach for those anyway. Wrapped up in that maybe, there's a world of possibility and she likes that. She likes the openness, the freedom, the uncertainty, of the word. It doesn't hold either of them to anything, it doesn't lend itself to broken hearts or shattered dreams. It just is.

X-X-X

Rose freezes at the door. The last time she was here, she had said a number of nasty things. So had her mum.

She gulps and turns away. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Jackie Tyler is better off without a damaged daughter. Maybe she should stay away, keep the broken pieces to herself. She bites her lip and then whirls around. Maybe it is better, but she can't help being selfish. Her world has fallen apart, she pulled the carpet out herself, and she needs someone familiar to grasp on to. She needs her mum more than ever.

Heart thumping in her chest like a maniac, she slips her key in and opens the door. Her voice trembles and creaks, "Mum?"

Jackie Tyler is there. Her eyes widen as she takes in her daughter and Rose prepares herself for rejection, even though she wants nothing more than the comfort of her mum's arms. "Oh my God, Rose! Rose!"

Then Jackie Tyler's arms are around her, pulling her close. They're both crying and it feels so good to finally be home.

X-X-X

Rose is back to working a mediocre job. Her hair is dark now and shorter because people still remember Mrs. Saxon and she couldn't bear their whispers. She wears leather and jeans, is harder on the outside. The look suits her.

Her mum is back to a cycle of affection and argument, but Rose catches her worried looks, as if her daughter will just fade away one day. Her friendship with Mickey continues, but it's a tentative creature and she knows it'll never be the same. She's too different now and he's mostly still the same funny boy she's always known. It's a dissonant friendship that only works when they pretend nothing happened. Her other friends aren't her friends anymore. She's made some new ones who know nothing, so it's almost okay.

She hops off the bus and begins the short walk to her apartment building. It's in that moment when she spots him. The Doctor, leaning against his TARDIS. They stare at one another for a moment and then he jerks his head, motioning her to come over.

It would be easy to pretend he wasn't there and walk on. Her life has settled into something close to normal and she doesn't need any complications. But she walks over to him anyway because taking the hard path is all she ever seems to do.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Rose Tyler."

"Is the world in danger again?"

He grins at her. "It's always in trouble somewhere."

"Or somewhen."

His grin widens and then he's laughing. She joins in with his laughter. It feels so good, to share this kind of moment with someone. Even though things have settled into almost-normal around her, they are still tense.

"I can see why he chose you."

Her laughter dies instantly. It feels like she's the Rose of months ago, when all these wounds were fresh and she still felt so stupid. But then those feelings never really went away. She stares at the ground and wonders if the Doctor came here to call her names. "Coz 'm daft an' –"

"No." She looks up at him in surprise, searches his face for dishonesty. There isn't any. He's entirely open, eyes shining, all lit up from the inside. Her heart flops in her chest. "You're clever, cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Stronger too."

Even if what he says is true, Rose knows it's not the full story. The Master didn't just choose her for her; he chose her because she was there. She was available and perhaps most importantly, she was just some kid off the Estate with no future but big dreams. Easy pickings.

"Stop lying."

"It's true. I would've –" He cuts himself off then and looks away.

Her heart skips a beat. She is terrified and wants to run, but her feet refuse to budge. "You would've what?"

He considers her for a time. She twitches under his deep scrutiny, wonders what he finds there. Finally he speaks. "I would've taken you."

"Not anymore though…?" She leaves it hanging there between them, both a statement and a question, wrapped up in all her hopes and dreams but ready for the crushing disappointment because that's her life now.

"I don't know… Would you still go?"

The question catches her off-guard and she wants to agree immediately, but she doesn't. Because, a second twinge strikes her. She's seen what horrors this universe contains, seen how it can break and twist a person into something terrible, hell she's _been_ that person. And he doesn't need this, doesn't need a companion who is still so far down in the pit where the stars can never reach. She doesn't deserve this.

"I don't know." She echoes back and they share another secret smile.

Silence settles over them. It's almost comfortable, this silence. She imagines another life, one where she met the Doctor before the Master. One where they could share comfortable silences and loud laughs and wonderful adventures. One where, instead of falling, she flew.

But that's not her life.

He heaves himself off the railing. "I better go. But, uh, how would you like a trip? Just one to see the stars, maybe step foot on another planet? Something simple and nice? One trip, what do ya say?"

Her face breaks out into a smile, a big one like sunlight and stardust. "I'd love it."


End file.
